Holiday Coupons
by financebabe
Summary: Stephanie gets Grandma Mazur's help in making gifts for the guys at RangeMan. This is a holiday one-shot I'm belatedly posting, but felt the timing didn't matter as much as the Babe HEA did.


_JE created the characters below. I just obsessed about them until they popped up in another story._

_Jenny (JenRar) yo__u are simply amazing. In the midst of all you have going on, you are truly up for anything as my beta. Thank you for your help on this story._

_A/N: Yes, yes, yes…I know it isn't Christmas. I wrote this right at the holidays and in the midst of all that was going on it was lost in the shuffle so I never posted it. I was toying with just hanging onto it until the holidays at the end of this year, but figured I'd probably forget about it between now and then. So as Dina (aydinbydin) said, it's "Christmas in February."_

**Holiday Coupons**

I threw the final catalogue across the room to hit the wall behind the television. "There's nothing in there, either." I knew I was complaining, but I was desperate, and that tended to bring the petulant child out in me.

Grandma Mazur licked her fingers after finishing off her third brownie and was sporting a grin much bigger than I'd ever seen on her face.

I glanced down at the small aluminum foil pan and asked, "Where did those brownies come from?"

"You didn't make them?" she asked, giving the appearance of being completely serious.

"Did you really just ask me that?" I wondered aloud. "Remember when we roomed together briefly? I don't cook – it's best for everyone involved if I don't even try it."

She made a thoughtful face, and then looked back down at the pan in her lap and pulled the foil covering that had been on top back flat so that we could look at it. There, in very childish looking script, was a post-it note in the shape of a marijuana leaf with the words: _Happy__Holidays, Dudette__. Hope they're far out!_

Oh, my little stoners had been by to see me, and I'd missed it. I looked once again at the pan of chocolate goodness and saw that almost half of them were missing. Not wanting to be left out, I scooped one up and took a big bite. They were still gooey, slightly undercooked, which only made them taste better in my book. I also knew the second I swallowed that they were incredibly strong, too. I guess Mooner and Dougie were serious about wanting me to have a far out time.

Grandma's expression changed completely as I finished my first brownie and scooped up my second. I figured if she'd had three, I needed to hurry and catch up; by being equally high, I could make better sense out of her thought process so we could hold a conversation.

Before I could ask what she was thinking about to make her all serious, she said, "I've got your problem all figured out, baby girl."

By this point, I was beginning to feel slightly happy. I was certainly not high, just a little giddy, and was willing to play along to make an old woman happy. "What problem is that, Grandma?"

"What to give those men for Christmas," she stated with a perfectly clear voice.

Strange... Most people would be bouncing off the wall crazy after consuming the amount of pot she'd had, but apparently, weed had the opposite reaction on my normally flamboyant Grandmother. Instead of it making her goofy, she seemed to become more lucid. I figured if it had that good of an effect on her, then it might help me, too, so I picked up another brownie and dug in.

"What can I give them?" I asked, willing to hear her out. Necessity might be the mother of invention, but in my case, it brought a desperation that made any idea, no matter who brought it up, worthy of serious consideration.

"Coupons," she said with a straight face.

"I don't get it," I answered honestly. "They don't really do their own shopping."

"Come on and turn on your computer. I'll talk – you type," she commanded, seeming to be perfectly in control of her thoughts, so I popped another big bite of brownie in my mouth and dutifully followed her to the little desk I'd found next to the dumpster and brought to my apartment, where my rebuilt PC and printer lived.

While waiting for the older version of Windows to load, we each had a final treat from the pan and pitched the now empty foil in the trash. I'd never gone through a batch of brownies that quickly. Strangely, I was still hungry, so after opening my word processing software, I grabbed us a bag of Cheese Balls that I'd picked up at the grocery yesterday. I figured it was a win-win purchase, because it was in the junk food isle, which guaranteed it would be tasty, but since the word cheese was in the name, it had to be a dairy product, too.

Grabbing a handful of the snack in her hand, Grandma got temporarily distracted and began to laugh. When I asked what was so funny, she said, "These are the best tasting balls I've ever had. And I'm not even having to pick curly hair out of my dentures."

I burst out laughing, which probably should have told me the brownies were much stronger than I realized, but instead, I decided that my grandmother had always been hilarious and this was just one more piece of evidence to that truth.

My computer was finally ready, so she pulled a chair from the kitchen table over to sit beside me and said, "Type this."

I let my fingers hover over the keyboard, and then went as fast as possible to keep up with her dictation.

"At the top, put _Merry Christmas Coupon_. Beneath that, put _One Question Answered Honestly and One Special Wish Granted_."

"I can't do that! They'll say sex or tell me they want a strip tease, and there's no way I can take off my clothes in front of them," I screeched, seeing a hundred different ways this could backfire on me.

Grandma was undeterred and kept talking. "Then on the back, in really small print, put the conditions of the offer."

"What's that mean? What are the conditions of the offer?" I asked around a mouthful of crunchy balls.

"You know, it's the fine print that stores put on their coupons to keep people from taking advantage of the deal. Stuff like, the coupon is for fifty percent off any item in the store, but the condition on the back says the item can't be from all the good brands, or it has to be on the scratch and dent table, or whatever else they want to say to keep you from actually using the coupon once you get there."

"So what are my conditions?" I wondered.

"Try this," she said, thinking for a minute, before taking a radio commercial voice doing the disclosure fast talk at the end. "_Offer good for only the next ten minutes. Must be redeemed upon receipt and cannot be transferred to any other person._"

"Oh, that's good, so if they say a strip tease, all I have to do is wear a lot of clothes and take them off slowly so that it uses all their time," I rationalized, beginning to see the wisdom of her offer.

"You can also say that all parties giving and receiving the coupon have to keep all their clothes on, and that no video equipment can be involved," she added, proving once again that she is the coolest grandparent on the planet, or that the swinging sixties was no exaggeration in her case.

"I hadn't even thought of that," I praised her brilliance, and then began personalizing them by filling in the names of the guys I wanted to give them to.

By the time the Cheese Balls were gone, I had printed out all the coupons, put them envelopes, and used some crayons, left over from the last time I kept my nieces, to decorate the outsides with festive pictures. At least, I thought they were festive... Grandma seemed to think it was a holiday Rorschach Test and kept finding naughty images in the trees and North Pole scenes I was attempting to draw.

It took us until dinner to finish making them, and by then, I was absolutely starving, so Grandma and I got dinner from the drive through at McDonald's. Then I dropped her off at my parents' house, promising to tell her how the coupons were received by the guys when I gave them out the next day at RangeMan.

I woke up bright and early – and by that, I mean just after nine o'clock – on Christmas Eve, put on a bright red, scoop neck, long sleeve t-shirt, paired it with some olive cargos, and dug deep into my makeup kit to find a lipstick called Wet Dream. It had to be the richest shade of red I'd ever seen and made my lips look as though I'd just licked them. I tried controlling my hair, but in the end, I gave up and decided to just let it be, figuring the guys would be more interested in their gifts than they were in my hair.

I picked up the stack of coupons and crossed myself, figuring a prayer wouldn't hurt in hoping the guys liked their presents from me and wouldn't be offended by the fact that I hadn't spent any money on them and had put so many conditions on the back that there wasn't much fun to be had with the gift, either.

By the time I arrived at Haywood, I was having a serious failure of courage to go in and hand out my gifts. I hadn't given them presents in the past, but I wanted to do something for them this year because of how much they'd done for me. Joe and I had broken up on Halloween night, effectively ruining my favorite holiday. Thanksgiving, I found myself doing anything possible to avoid going to my parents' house earlier than necessary and had gone to the office on the off chance somebody was there. They had set up a wide screen television in the big conference room and were alternating between bowl game coverage and the Macy's Day parade. They'd insisted I join them, and I'd stayed right up to the last minute when I had to go or risk being blamed for my mom drying out the turkey.

Ever since I'd spent the morning with the guys, they'd been much more attentive, and I wanted to thank them for their friendship to me this month in particular, but since skips weren't really skipping, my cash flow made it impossible to get them real presents. I looked at the collection of envelopes in my lap and wondered if my weak attempt at a present would be more of an insult than a thank you. This was the last time I would combine Christmas gifts and pot laced desserts.

I nearly put the key back in the ignition to go back home, but before I could, someone knocked on my window, nearly scaring me half to death. In my fright, I lifted both hands to put them on my chest, leaving the envelopes uncovered. When Ram opened the door, he saw them, and his entire face lit up.

"You don't by any chance have one of those with my name on it, do you?" he asked like a kid with the hope of being well rewarded by Santa.

I had them alphabetically organized, so I flipped through them quickly to pull out Ram's, handing it to him.

He tore the envelope open, barely looking at the picture Grandma Mazur had proclaimed was an elf taking advantage of a reindeer in ways that explained why Rudolf's nose was habitually red.

"I'm sorry it isn't more," I began to explain the lame idea and how it was born out of a drug induced haze, when Ram lifted a finger for me to wait.

I stopped talking, watching his face for any clue about how he was receiving my gift as he flipped it to the back and squinted to read the fine print housed there.

When he looked up at me, he was grinning from ear to ear, and took the single step necessary to close the distance between us and pull me into his arms for a huge hug. "This is the best gift ever – and exactly what I need." Then he dropped his arms from around me, took my hand in his, and pulled me to his truck.

"Uhh, Ram, what are you doing?" I asked, curious how he'd thought the gift was helpful with all the conditions I'd put on the back.

He held up two bags and said, "I'm going to see Marissa to celebrate Christmas. We've been dating for about four weeks, and it's great, but we haven't had any discussions about how serious it is. So I want to give her something that shows that I like what we have, but not something that says I'm ready to start booking a church and picking out baby names. Which of these says that?"

"You want my help picking out a gift for your new girlfriend?" I clarified, getting a nod in return. I reached in the bags and saw two very different, but equally wonderful gifts. I did a quick check of how I would feel getting each one. Finally, I put the thick gold bracelet back and said, "Give her the sweater, along with an invitation to dinner somewhere fancy where you hope she'll wear it because when you saw it in the store, you knew it would look beautiful on her."

"Not the bracelet?" he asked, unsure of himself in a way that was so endearing.

"No, it says _I'm willing to spend money, but I'm not all that willing to get to know you to make it personal_," I explained.

"I'm so glad I got your help. I was afraid the sweater said _I'm looking at what you wear and want to influence what hangs in your closet_," he confessed.

"Ram, it's cashmere. You don't hang something like that. It's more of an _I think you are lovely and deserve to be treated like a real lady, but if things work the way I want them to, this sweater will be on the floor by the end of the evening_ kind of gift," I joked.

"That's the exact message I wanted to send," he replied, grinning once again.

He held up my coupon and said, "You gave me the best gift ever. Thank you, Steph." With that, he kissed my curls and waved goodbye.

If nothing else, my interaction with Ram gave me enough confidence to go upstairs and try again. As soon as I stepped off the elevator, Les was there.

He looked up from a report and grinned, before pulling me to him in a big hug. "Merry Christmas, Beautiful!" he called out, before seeing my hands and asking, "Whatcha got there?"

I knew I was blushing, but I didn't have anything else to offer, so I found his name and gave him his gift. He tore straight through the wrapping, which depicted a Christmas tree decorated with nipples, according to Grandma. I thought the ornaments were prettier two toned, but apparently, it just made it x-rated in her mind.

He read only the front, before looking at me and wagging his eyebrows suggestively. I took the paper from his hand and turned it over, pointing to the back. He lost a little of his bravado, but he didn't seem at all disappointed. He took my hand and led me to his cubicle, sitting down before pulling me to sit in his lap.

"You did read the part about our clothes having to stay on, right?" I reminded him, a little uneasy about his excitement.

"Got it," he quickly answered, "No problem."

"Okay, hit me." I tried to act brave and remembered this was about bringing some Christmas joy to my guys.

"My question is, why did you do this?" He lifted the coupon with one hand, while wrapping his other arm around me to ensure I didn't stand up.

I instantly turned red.

Lester dropped his typical joking persona and lifted my chin with the fingers holding the coupon so that I'd look him in the eye. "I love it," he said, putting my fears to rest, "but I wondered why you put so much time into gifts for us. We aren't the kind of people that usually warrant much thought this time of year."

Relieved – and a bit saddened by his last sentence – I explained how much Thanksgiving had meant to me and how their help over the last month when I was rounding up the few skips I'd brought in had given me time to think about how great they were and how lucky I was to have them in my life. Then I confessed that I didn't have enough money to go out and buy them something, but I had to try to acknowledge how much I loved having them around.

Lester smiled at my answer, obviously enjoying the way I'd explained it to him. "We don't need you go buy us stuff. We all have money. What we do pays well, but it leaves us kind of isolated. This..." He held up the coupon once more. "This means something. That's what we need."

I leaned my head down to his shoulder for a minute, mainly to keep him from seeing how touched his words made me. When I tried to sit up, he put his other arm on me, holding me down, and warned, "My time's not up; you aren't going anywhere."

If this was the act of his choosing, I was completely on board with snuggling against Lester. I figured it was a present; I needed to be sure he enjoyed it, so I put the envelopes in my lap and freed up my arms to wrap around him, rubbing my forehead against his neck to find the perfect angle for cuddling. Surprisingly, despite being a solid wall of muscle, Lester was amazingly comfortable.

Cal walked by and saw us wrapped around each other and said, "Hey, man, share the Bomber. It's Christmas."

Lester looked down at his watch and sighed – actually 'making a noise while letting out a long breath' sighed. "All right, my time was up anyway."

I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, whispering, "Anytime you want somebody to snuggle with in your chair, give me a call." I pulled back and saw a twinkle in his eye that told me I just might be hearing from him. "No coupon needed."

Before he had a chance to make a rude comment, I jumped up and handed Cal his envelope.

He completely disregarded the wreath with a fuzzy bow that Grandma had said was definitely a picture of _her_ fifty years ago. I had shivered when she said it, realizing she was referring to a specific body part and refusing to verify which one by asking.

Cal read the front, flipped it over, finished the fine print, and then turned his head like he was considering something difficult. "No picking on me for what it is?" he clarified.

"Of course not," I responded, wondering why he would even ask.

"There is something," he said, taking my hand and pulling me down the hall to his cubicle at the end.

"What can I do?" I jumped in, hoping if I acted like I was up for anything, he'd relax and spill the secret quicker.

"My grandmother is dying," he said softly, clearly not wanting anyone to hear. "I couldn't work out going home for the holidays to see her, but on the phone last night, I told her that I had a girlfriend, because Grandma said knowing that would put her mind at ease about me and allow her to let go and relax about me being taken care of."

Then he blushed, as though an instant pink spray had been applied to his face, and added, "I know we're friends, and nothing more, but is there any way, if I called her right now, that you'd get on the phone for just a couple of minutes and pretend to think I'm a decent guy?"

"No," I said quickly causing his face to fall. I knew I needed to correct his misunderstand of my emphatic response quickly. "I don't need to pretend. I think you're wonderful, and if it would help you, I'd gladly sing your praises over the telephone."

Cal dialed a long series of numbers, and then spoke to a woman he called Grammy, saying he had somebody with him that wanted to say hello.

I took the receiver from his hand and said, "Merry Christmas, Grammy."

The sweetest voice, crackling with age and shortness of breath, responded and asked me how her dear boy was doing. I answered everything she asked, trying to be sure she knew the responses were coming from someone who cared deeply for her grandson. Well before I figured she'd run out questions, she seemed to run out of energy, and thanked me for making her Christmas merry. I handed the phone back to Cal and kissed the skull on his head, something I'd never had the courage to do. I figured he owed that to me, since I had just pretended to have intimate knowledge of him to a dying woman.

The next couple of hours passed in much the same way. I moved from cubicle to cubicle, handing out envelopes, answering questions, and fulfilling strange requests from each of the guys. I helped Hal try out gel in his hair and sculpted it to stand up. Binkie had me help him apply a semi-permanent tattoo so he could wear it home and pretend he'd really gotten one to shock his parents. Manny wanted me to taste two cookies and tell him which one was better so he'd know what to cook to carry to his girlfriend's parents' house. As I moved along, I realized this was really just as much of a present to myself as it was to them and figured I'd owe Grandma Mazur big time for suggesting the best possible thing I could have given them.

When I had only two envelopes left, I went to Tank's office and knocked.

"Enter," came a grumpy voice.

I guess I was feeling emboldened by having been so well received by all the guys that I cracked the door and said, "Somebody is going to get coal in their stocking if they don't start acting nicer."

"Get in here," came a booming voice with some laughter mixed in. "What's that in your hand?" he asked, showing off the world's most sincere smile.

I handed him his envelope, and he paused to look at the picture, making me nervous that he might come to the same conclusion that Grandma had, that my attempt at a snowman Santa driving a sleigh of snow reindeer was actually a man with a whip lashing out at two of his sexual submissives who were kneeling in front of him.

"Cute snow kitties," he said finally, making me think if I ever did this again, I was going to have my nieces color the envelopes. I figured they could probably draw better than me anyway.

He looked at the coupon, and then pulled out a magnifying glass to better see the fine print. When he finished, he set everything down on his desk, looked toward the window, and spoke softly, "Can you shut the door for me?"

I did as he asked, figuring that probably wasn't what he wanted to count as his "any action" for the coupon. When it clicked shut, he scooted his chair back to the console behind his desk and opened the doors, and then spun the lock on the safe that I assumed contained a small arsenal. He did have to pull out several boxes of ammunition and three different weapons in holsters, but then he lifted something that looked like a book, before returning everything to its rightful place and shutting the safe.

He got up and relocated to a leather chair across from his desk, and then lifted the book in his hand to show me a copy of _'Twas the Night Before Christmas_. He moved his head marginally to the side, and I decided to venture a wild guess that he was telling me to come over to where he was sitting.

One of Tank's massive hands wrapped around my wrist and guided me to sit across his legs. I was struck at just how big this guy was and how appropriate his nick name was, as well. When he spoke, his deep voice vibrated his entire chest, slightly tickling me where I was leaning against him.

"When I was growing up, my Mama read this book to me every Christmas Eve. When she was sick a few years ago, she gave me her copy and made me promise that I'd read it to my own children one day. I don't really see me having kids – I just ain't the parenting type – but I do love to take care of things."

I thought of his cats and nodded my head that I was following along with his story.

"And this past year – well, the last few months, at the very least – I've been so impressed, watching you come into your own and making some hard decisions that were the right things for you, despite what the 'Burg was saying. I couldn't have been more proud if I'd been your Papa."

I felt the tears welling up again that I had been working so hard to hold back with each coupon redemption. I never guessed Tank would be the one to pull them from me.

"I've always wanted to read this book to somebody I cared about and watched over. Can I read it to you?"

I opened the cover and leaned easily against his chest, surprised at how small I felt in his lap. Strangely, it felt completely natural, and I tapped the page where the words began, hinting that he should begin.

His deep voice started, "Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a …" He paused there, which told me he was waiting for a response, since the next word was clearly written on the page.

"Mouse," I finished for him, twisting my neck up to see his face to be sure I'd done what he wanted.

That heart melting smile was back where it belonged as he turned the page. He read it beautifully, with the smooth voice of practiced familiarity.

When he finished and shut the book, I said, "Thank you, Tank. I'm pretty sure you just single handedly made my Christmas."

His body shook – not like a bowl full of jelly like Santa's, but with joy just the same as he disagreed with me and said, "No, little girl, you definitely just made mine."

I placed a kiss on his cheek and wished him a Merry Christmas, before walking out with only one envelope remaining in my hand.

I stood outside Ranger's door, and just before my knuckles hit the wood, I heard his voice call out, "Come on in, Babe."

I walked in, shut the door behind me, and then proceeded to sit on the edge of his desk and hand him the final coupon I had to distribute.

Ranger looked at the elves making toys and asked, "Why did you draw short men masturbating?"

"What?" I gasped, wondering how in the hell he saw the same thing Grandma Mazur had. "They're Elves working on toys in Santa's workshop. They've all got little hammers in their hands, and the movement marks mean they're hammering their toys."

Ranger smiled and said, "So that's what you call it? I've heard it referred to in a bunch of different ways, but never hammering your toy."

I smacked his arm and said, "Just open it. Your actual gift is inside."

He used a letter opener and carefully tore the top open without disturbing the picture I'd drawn while obviously high. Seeing it now in broad daylight, there was no way those were hammers. Apparently, weed messes with my ability to draw normal pictures and puts my mind totally in the gutter.

Ranger read the front and looked up with a single eyebrow raised. "Did you give this to the guys, too?" he asked.

"Yes, but before you start wondering how I've spent my morning, you need to read the fine print on the back," I clarified, thanking God that Grandma Mazur had helped me come up with the conditions. I remembered Ranger's was the last one I'd done and I'd typed it from memory, instead of copying and pasting it, but I smiled, knowing whatever crazy idea he'd come up with was most likely being ripped away with all the rules I'd attached.

"You gave this to my men?" he asked, seeming more on edge than he'd been before I pointed it out.

"Sure. They loved it," I told him, feeling defensive all of a sudden.

"I'm sure they did, Babe," he replied, looking down again. "You gave this to all my men," he repeated.

"Look." I yanked it easily from his hand to read it aloud. I figured he needed Tank's magnifying glass and that's why he was worked up, because he had no clue what it said.

In a clear voice, I read, "_Offer is good forever. Must be redeemed upon receipt and cannot be transferred to any other person. All parties giving and receiving the coupon must take all their clothes off, and any available video or audio equipment can be __involved._

"Holy shit. That's totally not what it was supposed to say," I blurted out, feeling red down to my toes. "I swear everyone else's said no clothes could be removed, they only had ten minutes to finish everything they wanted, and they couldn't record anything. Everybody asked for the most innocent things."

Ranger rolled his desk chair so that he was sitting between my legs, took the coupon from my hands, and smiled at it. "So nobody got the same coupon I did, then."

"No...nobody else got _that_," I assured him.

"So mine is a one of a kind, exclusive offer?" he pushed, beginning to exude that sexuality I melted around.

"Yes." I only managed one word, and then wondered why it was so hot in Ranger's office. I mean, it was December in New Jersey, for crying out loud.

Ranger took my hand and pulled me down, but instead of guiding me to sit across his lap like Lester and Tank had done, I ended up straddling him. Somebody moaned as soon as our bodies pressed against each other, and I had a feeling Ranger would deny it being him, despite the depth of the sound.

"My question for you to answer honestly is why did you and Joe break up, and why haven't you gotten back together?" He leaned forward as he spoke and placed a trail of kisses along the neck of my shirt, making me wish the scoop neck was much lower.

I swallowed hard, and then attempted to form complete sentences. "We broke up because we don't belong together. We want different things out of life, and if we stayed together any longer, somebody was going to get hurt."

More kisses up my neck made it hard to keep talking, but I had promised to answer his question so I pressed on. "And we haven't gotten back together because I'm not in love with him."

"Who are you in love with, Babe?" he asked as his teeth grazed my earlobe.

I blamed the last of the marijuana from the brownies that must have been floating in my system somewhere for the fact that I blurted out the true answer. "You."

Ranger froze at my response. Enough time passed with neither of us moving that I began to regret my inability to receive sexual advances by Ranger and filter the words that came out of my mouth at the same time.

Before I started to talk again, attempting to backtrack away from what I'd confessed, he pulled back, framed my face with his hands, and just stared at me, as though looking for the truth of what I'd said in my eyes. I didn't fight him on it, knowing he'd see how sincere I was and there was nothing I could do to talk away the truth of it.

"I want to give you your gift now, but it's upstairs on seven. Will you come up there with me?" He was truly asking, not pushing, not forcing, or assuming. He was giving me the choice.

In the back of my mind, I knew if I went with him, something major was going to change in our relationship, so I took a deep breath before answering, "Yes."

As we rode the elevator to seven, he held my hand in his. We'd made this trip many times before, and holding hands wasn't an everyday occurrence, but it wasn't unusual for us, either. Somehow, though, despite the familiarity of what we were doing, it felt very different. The air around us was charged, and I was both excited and slightly nervous about what I was going to see on seven.

His apartment was exactly the same as it had been two weeks ago when we'd shared dinner together, except that in the center of the dining room table, there was a very short Norfolk Island pine tree and a rectangular box wrapped in black paper with a bright red bow around it.

"Is that for me?" I asked.

He nodded, but didn't release my hand. I allowed him to lead me over, pull out a chair, and sit me in it, before he pushed the box toward me at the edge of the table. I was never one to save paper, so I tore into it, ripping the wrapping to shreds, which fell on the floor in a big, messy pile.

I lifted the top off the box, and then pulled back the tissue paper. Inside was a dress that was simply heavenly. It was silky smooth and a blue so deep and royal that I knew when worn against my face, it would make my eyes really snap. I lifted it slightly, seeing how exquisite it was and knowing he'd spent a fortune on this single article of clothing.

Ranger covered one of my hands with his once more and guided the dress back into the box. "I was hoping you would wear this tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?" I asked, feeling as though I'd missed something.

"It's Christmas, and I would like to take you to Newark to meet my family – officially," he explained, getting those damn water works to finally turn on full force from my eyes.

"Why do you want me to meet your family?" I wondered. We'd known each other for years, and he'd never volunteered something like this before.

"Because they need to meet the woman that I'm in love with," he responded with such conviction that I couldn't doubt what he was saying as true.

"In love with?" I repeated, making it into a question.

"Completely," he assured me as he leaned forward to touch my lips with his own.

"I loved my present, Quierda," he spoke between kisses.

"But I didn't spend anything." I began to doubt how he could like something that was really just paper and a dirty picture.

He made a noise of disagreement and said, "You gave me something far more valuable than money."

"What?" I wasn't following him, but I couldn't be sure if it was because what he was saying was confusing, or because he was still kissing my neck between words and my brain wasn't functioning correctly anymore.

"You, Babe," he responded, pulling back just enough that I could see him. "You gave me you for Christmas."

Then he got the most delicious smile on his face, and I knew I was in trouble. "And I think I'm ready to open my present now with the same amount of enthusiasm that you used in tearing off the paper from yours."

I gulped, and Ranger laughed a little, before picking up the coupon and envelope he'd brought from downstairs and saying, "Your gift did say one action of my choice, and this is definitely what I choose."

He stood and lifted me from the chair so quickly that I made a less than lady like sound.

"So no naughty elf activities for you tonight, then?" I attempted to tease him, referring to the picture I'd colored on his gift.

He made a growling sound that somehow sent a blast of heat between my legs and said, "No, Babe, but if you want to hammer my toy, then consider me your own private workshop."

"Merry Christmas, Ranger," I said, feeling like it really was.

"Merry Christmas, Babe," he replied, before laying me on the bed and using the rest of the hours between then and the stroke of the clock signaling the arrival of Christmas to make it just that.


End file.
